


Denial is Unattractive on You

by craple



Series: Jaysexual [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Background Relationships, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Pre-Slash, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:50:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craple/pseuds/craple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You have a crush on Jason," Roy tells him, one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial is Unattractive on You

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops! First time on making a story out of DCU! I mean, for all the ten years I've been a total dork concerning Jaytim, this is the first time I actually, you know. _Wrote_ something. Feels nice.
> 
> Oh, and if you haven't noticed yet? This is a part of a larger verse. I'm feeling very adventurous after watching The Hobbit, can't help it ;)

"You have a crush on Jason," Roy tells him, one day.

Tim barely looks up from his book, a battered copy of A Clockwork Orange, makes sure that he is, indeed, still in Metropolis. Not in Gotham, definitely. Seven o'clock is usually the time where the weather turns to shit, after all, but as far as he's concerned, the sky is clear.

He flips another page, sips the acid-like green tea cautiously, then says, "You're following the definition of _Ménage_ à _trois_ with my brother, straight out of a dictionary. Literally."

Roy shrugs as he pulls the chair across the table. "Kory and I are doing it for sex; your _brother_ is stuck in that dampshit of a city. It's not exactly _domestic_ , sweet pea," he points out with a sharp grin.

Serena, the sweet pretty waitress who made his tea, comes over. With scrapbook and pen already in sight, she writes down Roy's order vigorously with a smile. Order which Tim suspects is going to turn up on his check.

Politely, she asks if he wants a refill for his tea, or maybe another plate of smoked salmon and mashed potatoes. Tim declines both offers distractedly, and asks for olives and cheese and a cup of black coffee, no sugar, instead. She smiles and scuffles away.

"Is it me just me, or you really are a magnetic field for chicks," asks Roy, stealing his fries with a gleeful look on his face. It sounds more of a statement than a question in Tim's ears. He narrows his eyes sceptically at the man.

"You've been sleeping with Jason." Because that manner of speaking, where he turns questions into statements simply for the enjoyment of pissing people off is just so Jason.

"Duh," he retorts with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "I mean, it's _Jason_. With a look like that, he basically fucks anything attractive with two legs, not more or less, mind you, which is precisely what I am." Then, making what seems like a contemplative look, Roy adds, "And Kory too, of course."

Tim... doesn't really know what to say to that.

Except he does. "At the moment?"

Roy simply nods in response, the look on his face so dreamy downright _dirty_ ; the urge to throw the horrible green tea on his head is so damn tempting.

But Tim resists. He is so much more mature than that. The road leading him to be a decent adult human being has gotten considerably shorter. He demands an award, immediately.

Dumping the green tea on Roy's shining strawberry blonde hair would be most satisfying.

All in all, it's not exactly a bad idea.

"From the way you are clutching that cup, I reckon you're planning to smash it to my face?" Roy questions, expression turns sheepish.

Ooh, that sounds tempting as fuck too. "I have no idea what you're talking about," quips Tim cheerfully.

Clearly not trusting Tim on the subject of no-harm-done-to-this-face-of-mine, Roy leans back, the chair creaking under his weight, then shakes his head.

"Anyway, the bottom line is: you can join us, for a while. Kory wants to see the world, and Jason isn't opposed to the idea either, now Dick is Batman," he pauses, grins, and Tim winces. "Yes, horrible as he is, but Gotham's _safe_. Or as safe as it can be with Dick, you know, being _Dick_.

"I know you're looking for Bruce, and that you'll go even into the most secluded place on this earth if you need to. We are more or less doing the same thing. Except me and Kory have 'Vacation' up front, capital V." Roy finishes cheerfully. Tim processes the information in silence as Dianna, another pretty blonde waitress, lays their plates on the table.

She keeps looking back and forth between them, unsure but determined. A glance toward the far end of the cashier, right where the waiters and waitresses are gathered, proves Tim’s guess to be right.

Well, it’s just a matter of _who_ between the two of them she wants.

Or maybe she’s wondering whether they are in a relationship; asking them only because the senior staff members are housing a bet about the percentage of gay couple walking into the restaurant once a week.

It certainly won’t be the first time.

Folding the edge of the paper he’s currently at neatly, Tim says, “Before you start to ask, no, we are not a couple.”

To his – well, not really _surprise_ per-se – Dianna _beams_ like Tim is marshmallow and cotton candy and, anything _sweet_ really. Tim groans. Internally. He’s _polite_ , that way.

Roy though, misinterprets the situation for something, _else_ , as he cuts off, without looking away from his food, “And he’s not single either, case in point. The dude’s _Jaysexual_ , okay, you can’t convert him unless it’s for a one night stand.”

He re-focuses his attention back to present, eyes the girl appreciatively. “Not to say _I_ am not interested, or something,” he says, rests one elbow on the table, leans closer to smirk and doing that thing where he flirts with his eyes.

Tim rolls his, unbidden. “Or _something_ ,” he murmurs. Goes back to the latest paragraph he’s marked.

Roy’s tone is sharp and amused, giving Tim the perfect image of his smug shit-eating grin and crooked teeth. “You see what I’m saying? He doesn’t even _try_ to deny it, the little – “

“Language, Harper,” Tim cuts off, distracted. Roy shrugs, waves a dismissive hand at Tim’s direction. “Yeah, yeah, anyway; like I was saying, _I_ won’t mind,” but the girl already storms off. Tim feels bad for the guy.

Moaning obscenely around a mouthful of roasted lamb, Roy whines, “Why? Why can’t I even get laid from a cheap restaurant with a decent-looking waitress, why?” that earns him a kick to the knee from Tim’s very pointed boots’ tip.

“You don’t get a say about how cheap this restaurant is unless you’re paying for yourself,” grouses Tim a bit moodily. It’s getting a bit darker, but also funnier, in a way. The story of the book. Roy flicks a carrot at his way.

“I don’t hear you complaining about the decent-looking part, though,” he points out with a grin. Tim’s lips pursed.

He says, “I don’t have a crush on Jason,” to which Roy replies with, “Oh, _come on_! That’s like saying you’re not wearing _his_ Red Robin suit, and that you didn’t stalk him even when you didn’t know how cock works, and that you did not – _do not_ – have pictures of Jason you took when you were young and his pre-death in your laptop! Like, _a hundred thousand_ pictures, okay? Not the healthy amount one!” plus a long suffering sigh.

Tim flushes, the tips of his ears hotter than he’d like, his tongue a heavy weight in his mouth. Roy’s grin stretches wider.

“See? Not even trying to deny it, I mean. Denial’s not a good look on you, Detective. It’s not a shame to admit that Jason has ruined you _for good_.” The smug bastard leans back obnoxiously. “I bet you can’t even have sex without seeing his hair, or how _dark_ his eyes are can’t you.”

It’s not a question – it really _isn’t_ – Tim feels inclined to answer.

Instead, he asks, once more, “What do you want, Harper?”

Roy simply hums a scrambled, messy rhythm under his breath, swallowing all the meat and boiled carrots greedily down his throat. Tim watches the process in quiet disinterest, because partly of what Roy states is the truth; that he’s not interested to anyone now, unless she or he has coal black hair and dark emerald eyes.

They don’t – they don’t even have to have the same _shades_ or anything, because it’s impossible. Jason is the only one who has eyes like that; deep, smouldering, full of anger, _burning_. His throat constricts every time he sees it.

Harper sets the fork and the knife down, snatches a toothpick and starts picking at his teeth. The coke is next to be swallowed, after throwing the toothpick into a poor old man’s trousers’ back pocket. Tim’s fingers itch to throttle him to death.

“You already know what I want, Master Wayne,” drawls Roy, amused, clearly on the verge of laughing. “Wanna see you squirm under Jason, see if your presence there will make a difference. See if he will finally be whole again.”

Tim’s head throbs. “That is not even a reason.”

Roy’s smile is honest, and blinding, this time. “I know, but think about it. He’s my friend, okay. The only friend I trust and will ever have. So if you decide to join in our little adventure – not in our little band of outlaws, worry not – call him.”

“I don’t have his number,” Tim says. Roy laughs, and it’s genuine and refreshing and a pretty fucking _shock_ to Tim’s conscience.

“Yeah, right. Tell that to the one and only number you’ve kept, probably memorised to heart, in your phone that you have never, _ever_ erased.” He grins, playfully. “I will believe you then.”


End file.
